


The Weight of a Life

by anillani



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, F/M, Fantasizing, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Farmer, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Medical Procedures, Mild Blood, Other, Pre-Relationship, Unnamed Farmer, aka harvey can't think straight sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25793392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anillani/pseuds/anillani
Summary: Even in the wake of his worst nightmare, Harvey didn't cry.
Relationships: Harvey/Female Player (Stardew Valley), Harvey/Male Player (Stardew Valley), Harvey/Player (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 120





	The Weight of a Life

**Author's Note:**

> hello lovelies! it's the quintessential hurt/comfort harvey fic! i know this has been done a ton already but ehhh we all love angst here, so it's ok

It had always wrecked Harvey’s nightmares, the thought of anyone in town being in a gruesome accident. Saving people was part of being a doctor, after all, though he realized soon into his career that he much preferred the more mundane life of the town doctor. Checkups, flu shots, medication prescription. That was easy.

The life-saving aspect was another hurdle. If someone were to get seriously injured, _he’d_ have to be the one to heal them, fix them, make sure they didn’t die on the table right under his hands. All of the weight was on _his_ shoulders, the weight of a _life._

And he had to be real with himself; it wasn’t just _anyone_ that kept him up at night, that made his stomach churn and his mind rumble with instinctual fear.

No, it couldn’t be just anyone. The farmer wasn’t _just anyone_.

***

The night was quiet save for the rain pattering against the windowpanes. Harvey sat with a book on his couch, lost in the pages until he realized the hour.

_I should get to sleep_ , he thought, stretching as he tucked a bookmark into where he left off and set the book down on the coffee table. He was about to head to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face when he heard a distant pounding.

_The door?_ His stomach lurched. _Who could be here at this hour…?_

The thoughts that loomed over him as he tumbled down the stairs and rushed to the clinic doors – the thoughts of a bloodied young townsperson leaning against his doorframe, the thoughts of crimson trickling down their face and staining their skin and the fabric of their shirt before dripping to the muddy doormat below, the thoughts of half-lidded eyes that were empty behind their color, dull without the life to support them – weren’t easily silenced.

Deep down, he knew who it would be. He denied the theory, tried not to consider the idea, but he _knew_ in his gut who he would be met with when he opened that door. Countless hours of lectures to be careful in the mines, to not get carried away chopping trees, to be mindful of the time just weren’t enough. It would never be enough to control the inevitable.

When he reached the door, his fingers fumbled with the lock, palms already sweaty. He undid the bolt and swung the door open, chewing his lip as he toyed with a faint glimmer of hope that maybe, _maybe_ it wouldn’t be too serious. Maybe it wouldn’t even be them.

But sure enough, there they were. The farmer’s shoulders caved inwards as they clutched their stomach, their other arm dangling limply at their side. They lifted their head slowly, eyes meeting Harvey’s in an unblinking stare.

And there was blood. A lot of blood. Their breathing was labored, too, coming in heaves and gasps like they were drowning. Harvey released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and took the farmer in his arms. He helped them to the back room of the clinic. They hadn’t said a word yet, but they did grunt when Harvey hefted them up onto a bed.

He reassured himself that that noise was a good sign; it meant the farmer was conscious enough to feel at least some pain.

“I see that you have a wound on your abdomen, and your arm seems to be injured, as well,” Harvey said as he hurriedly checked the farmer’s vitals. “Is there anywhere else?” His voice was coming out steady despite his racing mind and trembling hands. He could barely make out the farmer’s hoarse reply over the blood rushing in his ears and the rain hammering the windows.

“Ankle,” they croaked.

Harvey nodded and gingerly examined the stomach wound. It wasn’t deep, thank Yoba, but it had been bleeding for a while.

_I need Maru’s help with this._ “I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t move.” Harvey rushed to the phone at the front desk. His clammy fingers were halfway through dialing the carpenter’s number when he realized that Maru wasn’t home. She would be gone all weekend. There was some convention or another for gadgets or robots or something in Zuzu.

Harvey cursed under his breath as he slammed the receiver down. Why now? Now, of all times, when his nightmares were finally a reality, he had no one to face them with. He was almost _mad_ at Maru, but he was more so mad at himself for allowing such trivial vulnerabilities. In this aspect, life was easier when he was lonely and out of touch with love; nobody to worry about, nobody to fret over and care for. Just him.

He trotted back to the farmer’s side, grabbing some surgical supplies on the way. Once at their bedside, he slid on his gloves and mask, willing himself to continue breathing. He removed their stained and torn clothing, extra careful around the injures. They winced as he pulled the sleeve away from their arm, revealing another wound, though smaller, on their bicep. He reassured them with an apologetic squeeze of their wrist and focused on cleaning. Or at least he intended to.

Now there was an unforeseen obstacle to pass.

With the farmer completely naked, Harvey couldn’t help the rush of thoughts a doctor really shouldn’t be having about their patient. It was like the flood gates of his longing had opened, and his desires all poured out at the worst time.

_You’re a doctor, dammit, this is no time to be thinking indecently!_ But Harvey couldn’t help noticing the gentle curve of the farmer’s waist and their toned arms and tanned chest and the little birthmark on their left thigh and- _Focus, Harvey, focus!_ Shaking away the intrusive fantasies as fast as they had sprung into his brain, he got to work.

He cleaned the wound with a gentle hand, speaking to the farmer every so often to make sure they were still conscious. He whispered their name as he numbed the area, watching their features soften as the pain diminished. Their eyebrows released their tension and mouth fell open loosely, while their eyes closed completely, as they could finally relax for the first time in hours.

“It’ll be okay. You’re safe,” Harvey murmured in spite of himself. He began working on closing the gash. It wouldn’t need too many stitches. It was nothing he hadn’t done before; in fact, he’d had more serious operations on his hands in med school, but this was different. There was more weight, more significance. The untold feelings, the pent-up desire, the deep, aching _need_ for the farmer was what made this distinctive. It was what pushed the bile down from his throat and steadied his hands, but it was also what brought the hot sting behind his eyes and the throb in his heart.

But he didn’t let himself cry. Not when the love of his life’s blood was still soaking into the bedsheets under them.

Regardless, he managed to push through all alone.

Once the farmer was sewn and bandaged up, Harvey moved onto the arm. He cleaned diligently, the tension falling from his shoulders as the stakes decreased. Their arm needed fewer stitches, luckily, so he moved onto their ankle soon after.

It was swollen and discolored from bruising. He pressed on and around the ankle bone. “Does it hurt more when I push here? Any numbness or tingling?”

The farmer shook their head. “None, just hurts to move.” Their speech was slurred and quiet.

Harvey concluded it was sprained and went to the other room to fetch the elastic to wrap and compress it.

With the farmer cleaned, sewn, and bandaged, Harvey’s pulse finally slowed. His legs nearly gave out under him knowing the farmer would live to see daylight again. He set aside his supplies and used gloves and mask, then transferred them to a clean bed and tucked them in. He made sure they drank water and took a painkiller to ease the soreness.

After drinking two glasses of water, they flopped unceremoniously onto the pillow and gazed at Harvey as he situated them. He elevated their ankle and made sure they were comfortable. His hands lingered on their shoulders, neck, calves as he did so, absently reveling in their soft skin and gentle features. They looked so fragile tucked into the hospital bed, bruised and scraped even on their face, yet serene as they dozed off. He stroked their face with the back of his hand.

“Oh, what I would do for you,” Harvey whispered. He knelt down and took the farmer’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb over each knuckle. “I love you more than words can express. You have become my world.” With that, he removed his glasses and dragged a hand down his face, then rested his head on his arms with a sigh, fatigue tugging at him. He fell asleep right there, hand clutching the farmer like a lifeline.

Which, he couldn’t deny, was what they had become.

***

Harvey awoke with a start. The memory of his dreams was murky and undefined, but he knew he was glad to be awake. Sunlight was already streaming in through the rain-soaked windows and birds chirped outside. He sat up straight, groaning as he stretched out his neck and back. He rubbed at the tense muscles and scolded himself for sleeping in such a position to begin with. It took him a moment to fully wake up. He put his glasses on and ran a hand through his hair. Still worn out from the night’s happenings, he tried to focus on attending to the farmer, which is when he noticed his hand still in theirs.

Except the farmer’s fingers gripped him back. His features softened and he smiled down at them where they lay so soundly asleep and blissfully unaware of the world. He tugged away to set out another pain pill and glass of water. When he came back into the room, the farmer was sitting up.

Calling their name, he walked over. “How do you feel?” Harvey asked, setting the water down. “You should continue resting. Do you remember what happened last night?”

The farmer’s head lolled in a nod. “I remember. I’m fine, but it kind of hurts.”

“Stomach is the worst?”

They nodded again, reaching their good arm out for the water, which Harvey handed to them, along with the pain killer.

“Take this, too. It’ll help with the pain.”

They swallowed it wordlessly and drank the rest of the water in two gulps. Harvey took the glass back and set up to take their vitals once more.

Neither spoke as Harvey checked their pulse and heartbeat. His hands lingered as he assessed them, fingers tracing wherever the equipment went; on their upper arms, their back, their chest. All so warm and sturdy despite the beating they had taken. He also examined their eyes, and as his fingers came to rest on their chin to steady their head, the farmer grabbed hold.

“Harvey.” Their breath fanned out over Harvey’s hand. He set the tool down, finding the exam results adequate for now. He couldn’t wait, not when the farmer called out to him in that sweet voice of theirs. It was their regular speaking voice, if not a bit hoarse, but that didn’t stop Harvey’s heart from skipping a beat at the sound of his name.

“Yes?” he breathed.

“You stayed here all night.” It wasn’t so much an accusation as a comment, simply stating an observation.

“Well,” Harvey faltered. “I mean, you were… you were injured, _severely_ injured _._ I couldn’t just… leave. I had to monitor you. Yeah.” Despite the stuttering, Harvey looked into the farmer’s eyes as he spoke.

“Is that normal? Falling asleep by a patient’s bedside?” The farmer giggled and laced their fingers together.

Harvey’s heart nearly leaped out his throat. Their hand was smaller than his and layered with tough, calloused skin. It was rough but _warm_ , and this was the most intimate touch Harvey had experienced since college.

“I don’t usually do it, no.” Harvey felt his face beginning to flush.

“Oh, I see,” the farmer drawled. “So, I’m a _special case_?” They watched him with a smirk.

“Would it be a problem if you were?” Harvey’s heart hammered. It felt like thousands of tiny butterflies were trapped fluttering in his ribcage, sending a hum reverberating through his body. He couldn’t hold back the giddy churn of his stomach.

Then, the farmer’s hand released his, and the butterflies disappeared for a moment, replaced by a black hole, ready to consume that anticipation. The light of hope was nearly snuffed out in a matter of seconds, but then the butterflies were back, stronger and bigger than before, clambering in his chest like they were trying to escape.

The farmer’s hand came up to cup Harvey’s cheek. Their thumb traced over his lip, and everything felt so _hot_ all of a sudden.

Then their lips were on his.

It was chaste, short and sweet like the first kiss of high school sweethearts. Their lips were soft and welcoming; he could get addicted if he wasn’t careful.

Harvey couldn’t speak, couldn’t formulate thoughts, only gaze wide-eyed at the darling farmer, with their messy hair and freckled face and tanned skin and sparkling eyes and pink lips that were tugging up at the corners. The heat from his face radiated down his neck, and he could only imagine how wrecked he looked. All from a little, simple, barely-there kiss.

He took their face in his hands, relishing the feel of their soft skin under his fingers. He opened his mouth to speak, but the way the farmer’s eyes fluttered shut made his heart clench, and he couldn’t resist anymore. He reunited their lips, and they melded together perfectly, like it was always meant to be this way. They held each other, breathed each other’s scents, soaked each other in.

The tears pricked at his eyes suddenly, and in that moment, Harvey finally allowed himself to give in. He cried as he slid his hands down their back, holding them close. He sobbed into their mouth, mumbling incoherently. They hugged him back, allowing him to let go and relieve himself to them, be vulnerable like he always needed to be.

The farmer raked their hands through his hair as they pulled away. “It’s okay, Harvey. I’m here, I’m safe.”

Harvey smiled through the sniffles. _Safe thanks to_ me, was all he could think, and there was no contempt, only pride in himself. He brought the farmer into his chest.

“You’re allowed to love me, Harvey,” they whispered, and he cradled their head against him.

“Thank you,” he said into their hair, which somehow miraculously still smelled nice; sweet and fresh, like summer berries. “I love you.” He sighed pleasantly. “But you have to let me love you as much as I can.”

The farmer merely chuckled and embraced Harvey a little tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed! ty for reading <3


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